Mistletoe
by Bandersnatch91
Summary: Q is alone for the Holidays and whomever just broke into his kitchen is going to answer to his bat! Part 1 of 25 Days of fic challenge.


**A/N:I decided to do the 25 days of fic challenge this year. Unfortunately, I am running roughly 6 days late as of tomorrow, and I figured this would be Christmas gift enough for my lovely Ushathur. I did unfortunately run over words, which the maximum is 1000 words, too hard to do sometimes haha! If you're curious I went over 116 words for the challenge...oh well!**

**-Mistletoe-**

Q sat at home in front of the television, his hand cradling a glass of wine, as he stared ahead into the glass screen, flipping the channel when anything remotely Christmas related came on. He had the slight inkling to turn on Doctor Who, however with a glance to his Black Forrest Hunters cuckoo clock that rung the time, and it was another hour until the show would be on.

He had gotten the day off, something he fought really. With a genius like himself who needed days off with gadgets needed to be made, and agents to protect with those gadgets. He was an inventor, and as such, inventors did not take days off. Especially when one during too much time would hack into the government systems. Which, ironically was how he had landed this job from the orphanage. Just a trip to the library and a quick tinkering here and there and he had broken into the United Nations Data base, simple feature that it was.

Q lifted the wine glass to his lips, sipped it a few times after letting it swirl in his cup for a moment, adjusted his glasses and placed it on the side table where he wouldn't have to worry about dropping it. It was nearing 8 in the evening, and it was turning out to be one horrid Christmas season. Not that he liked Christmas in particular anyways.

He turned off the telly, sighed, and pulled himself out of the lazy boy he had been residing for the past couple of hours. His lips pressed together until he sucked in a worried breath his brown eyes looking down the hall of his flat. It was by no means exemplary, nor was it huge. It was small, with a small kitchenette, stairs that ran upstairs to the bathroom and his bedroom, and the sitting room that attached itself to the hall of the front door and the kitchenette. His rugs were very simplistic and stylish, more modern then used for a cozy look, and the carpet was a soft crème color.

Q pressed his hands into his back and pressed forward as he leaned back cracking his spine a few times, while stretching his muscles. He jumped at a loud sound coming from the kitchenette and in one fowl swoop downed his wine as if to get some nerve as he was rather a coward when it came to anything physical, fights, kissing, sex, the lot of other physical things like hand touching also got him rather squeamish. He grabbed a baseball bat that he had gotten just to see what he could possibly do with it gadget wise, and hadn't quite gotten around to it, which made it 100% wood.

He tiptoed to the kitchenette pressing along the wall trying not to knock into his Hunters Cuckoo clock, that he had paid quite a bit for, and not wanting to ruin it, though he had tinkered with it sum and if he set the alarm lasers could be used to slice and dice intruders and missiles could be fired and locked onto targets, though he hadn't had a change to test out the missile weights yet.

Q peered into the kitchenette and let out a low groan, sitting on his table using a needle and thread to patch himself up was the blond haired and blue eyed 007, James Bond. He rolled his eyes stepping into the kitchen and growled. "Next time a ring would be more favorable, yeah? I could have knocked your head off."

007 didn't look up and instead continued to patch himself up, almost as if he was ignoring him. "You have any cleaning alcohol? Perhaps some gaze?" Then, as if as an after note he replied with a piece of medical thread in his mouth. "You could yeah, but I don't think you'd be very effective with taking my head off with that, yeah?"

Q did not respond to that and instead turned back to the hallway and sitting room only to take a left to the stairs heading up into his bathroom and grabbing the medical materials that were asked for. He placed them on the table next to Bond when he returned and placed a hand to his chin. "What was it this time? I thought you were in India."

"I was." Was the quick and stoic reply.

"So what happened?" He pressed.

"Confidential." Was the dry reply, not once did Bond look up, much to Q's dismay.

"So you're still on the assignment then, yeah?"

"Yeah." The cut the thread after applying a coat of rubbing alcohol on the wound with a hiss. Finally his eyes lifted and met Q's brown ones and a small grin lit his face. "I'm going to need more toys."

"Dammit. What happened to the 3-80p Wristwatch infrared missile launcher, the DNA encoded pistol, and the laser led light book light?" He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "Not to mention the others."

Bond didn't look remorseful of the hours he had spent making his babies just for him. He growled and Bond finally answered after a small pause. "I dropped some of them, broken others, and the rest left behind in my Hotel room."

"Left behind! Jesus Bond!" He scowled dark locks falling into his eyes and bouncing against his cheeks and neck as he stormed over and ripped something from the top of the doorway, and threw it at him.

"Mistletoe?" Bond inquired.

"Yeah. Now piss off. The berries are bombs and if you pull off the leaves they are actually throwing stars. Now that's it. Get out, get out!" He moved to push 007 out of his flat. In the back of his head he was rather tired and didn't want Bond to go. However the man had a mission to do, and didn't have time for school boy crushes of a man much younger than he was.

"Hold on a moment."

Q looked rather speechless as he tried to push Bond out of the doorway blinking for a moment and rather surprised as the trinket was lifted above his head and he was kissed rather quickly on the lips, with a tiny bit of tongue introduced. He hadn't had time to react before Bond wished him a Happy Holidays and was off down the street to his car.

Q blinked, grumbled stuffing his hands into his pockets as he kicked the door closed, and sent his Black Forrest cuckoo clock a glare, cheeks dusted pink. "Happy Holidays, twat." He murmured, deciding to find something a little stronger than wine, perhaps spiked eggnog.

**-End-**


End file.
